Monday, September 7, 2009


i squint my eyes, looking

through the window, and

the streetlamps make stars

that shimmer on the black.

her face is the picture

of tired resignation, of

peace in the knowledge

that she had lost a long,

hard fought battle.

of everything, i remember

details, lighting cigarettes

on the stove, the chill

of winter air on my face,

the perfect way your lips

pressed against mine.

i let the music sing me to sleep,

wishing it was you.

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